The clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1883-1888, 1887-02-02

known him give her darlings.
"Ah now | am sure you must be i'll, )"
she said, hushing the children; whoever
saw you cross before, my Whitney
above all things, to themT'
They must not come near me-send
them away, and go yourself" he said.
huskily.
"what, II go away?' cried the
young wife, with a groan of indignation
breaking up through her terror; "what
can you think of me, Whitney,"
For their sake-for your own, 9tyra,
he said, pushing her away; child
child. II is the fever that is upon me"
She looked at him eagerly, almost
wildly; her pale lips fell apart and her
cheek grew cold as snow.
Take the children away" she said,
motioning backward with her had to
mulatto girl, who stood looking on.
''Take them quite away into your own
room, Agnes, and be STILL"
The little ones went reluctantly and
with tears standing in their wild eyes
1t was so strange for them to be sent
| away when papa came in; then he
looked so odd and stood so unsteadily
on the floor; besides, mamma was be-
ginning TO cry; they would go back and
ask her what it was all about.
| But no, the firm little maid held them
tight, and forced them, struggling,
| through the door. She knew what those
symptoms foreboded, and a sudden
dread seized upon her. Yes, she would
save the little ones-that was all she
could hope for-and away she dragged
them into her own little room, which
was distant from the infected chamber.
Myra forgot her children, forgot every
thing in the frightful symptoms that
burned on her husbands face and shot
| fire into the hands she clasped and
wrung in her own.
"0h, husband my husband, it is not
that-not the fever, God help u.s. You
have been in the heat-you are tired
out; glass of ice-water and little rest
will drive this headache awayw
"Oh, it is terrible, Myra, my temples
seem splitting with the pain," he muir
INJURED, holding his head between both
| hands and reeling to and fro.
"But it is the heat-it is the heatw
she persisted, determined to believe her
self.
at is DEATH Oh, Myra, 1 fear it is
deathl'
She began to tremble in ali her limbs,
a wild terror broke into her brown eyes,
giving them an unearthly brightness.
"Oh, don't-don't! the bare idea kills
meP' she pleaded, finging her arms
around him.
He struggled and tried to force her
away, but the fire of disease and the
power of her great love were stronger
than his confused will. She drew him
toward the bed and forced him down to
the pillows, praying him to be quiet and
to try and sleep.
While he lay moaning on the pillows,
she ran for ice-water and gave it to his
hot lips, bound his forehead with wet
napkins, and strove, in her sweet, femi-
nine way, to assuage the pain which had
seized so tiereely upon him. 10 have
seen that slight creature acting as a
nurse to the being she most loved, you
would hardly have believed it possible
that she possessed sufficient energy to
cake a controlling lead in one of the
most important law-cases that ever as
tonished our country-that she had
breasted difficulties and outliyed dis
couragements before which strong men
might have retreated without forfeiture
of courage.
In that sick room she was gentle as
childhood, but quick as lightning to
seize upon any means of mitigating the
pain that held that young man as In the
embrace of fend.
Hour after hour she watched in that
sick chamber. The doctor came, or
dred the usual remedies, and went away
again, with heart that felt little and
a face that told lothing at all. His
course of practice was UNMARRIED; the
same medicines in almost every case
copious bleeding; vague, wild hopes in
the loving hearts that ached around the
bed; then the last fatal symptoms of
death-thus it went day after day.
Poor Myral how she searched that
mans leaden eyes for some little CLEAN
of hope when he came into that sick
chamberl how eagerly she stroye to read
features that never changed to a thought
or a feeling, even when death stood
close byl Still she would not despair
had not every obstacle given way to the
force of her own will so far in her life
was she to be baffied and conquered
now?
To her warm heart it seemed impossi-
BILE that death could strike form SO
full of manly strength, or that she could
live an hour after him if the great
calamity did come.
i Alasl with all her experience and
force, Myra was yet to learn how diff
cult it is for human heart to break OF
grief, or exhaust itself with trouble. Ii
} wish to die could induce the dark
: destroyer to strike, many breathing
} nay, blooming form would be laying
low which is now doomed to run Its
, course to the end.
| One day, it was less than week after
! the first attack, Myra was called to the
, bedside of her husband. A great and
terrible change had come upon the
splendid form; the flesh had seemed t.
: melt away from his limbs like mist from
the uplands; his eyes were hollow; tn,
4 skin upon his forehead yellowisf
, brown.
; "Myra, my poor wifep'
2 She bent down and kissed the fever
| stained forehead.
2 "My husbandI you are better; there
r the brightness is coming back to you
2 eyes,"
, "No, Myra, no; 1 feel strangely bu
) not better"
t A movement of impotenr sorrow re
vealed the struggle with which the poo
t woman strove to disproye this truth Il
/ her heart.
t "Den't say that-you don't under
3 stand; wait till the doctor comes, b
y will tell you | am right"
: The sick man moved his head feebl
: on the pillow, and moan broke fror
S his lips.
= Just then the doctor came in from hi
a rounds in the infested city. The youn
, wife appealed to him with her mournfu
eyes, trembling with an awful dread a
d his fingers touched the pulse.
S 80, doctorl is he better?"
+ "Yes, undoubtedly"
e Myra burst into tears; the invali
d frightened little, then turned his fac
e on the pillow, and great tears role
7, down his cheeks.
b 'sNo, DOCTOR" he mursnured, "no"
le at is my opinion we have everythin
< to hope here, madam. Let us taI
Of little more blood, and all will go o
le we'll"
t. Bandages were brought; the shar
= lancet bit its way a third time I'M
8 those hot veins, and directly serval
~ bore out great white toilet-bowl frotl
as ing over with the red life drawn from
T. frame already exhausted with its bait
against the fever.
n, "There, madam" said the doctor, la,
ly ing the wounded arm of his patient te
IN derby on the counterpane, s'he will {
n well now, have no fear; will drop
ty this evening; follow the old direction
at and keep him quiet"
II 80, doctorl cannot speak my than
fulness, my heart is so full"
es There is no necessity of words" sa
no the doctor, colnplacently; "or for grs
1t itude either, so far as / am concerned